


'til tomorrow and for all of our lives

by ivyxwrites



Series: save the last dance for me [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bluepulse Week, Bluepulse Week 2020, Crossover, Day 6 - Past/Future, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Non-powered AU, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, but that's a story for another day!, but the ones tagged are probably the only ones with actual lines, day 6 is so late whoops, i realized there are a lot of missing scenes that i'd like to write, there are a bunch of other characters mentiones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyxwrites/pseuds/ivyxwrites
Summary: Five years ago, he had been in New York, sitting at a table next to his godfather and watching a dear family friend dancing away at his own wedding. Five years ago, Jaime Reyes met Bart Allen at the "wedding of the modern era", and his life has since then turned upside down. Five years ago, he looked across the dancefloor and was left breathless for the rest of his life.Jaime thinks how kissing Bart still tastes like lightning and stings like electricity, and as their friends and family cheer around them, he thinks it’ll never stop feeling like that--y al chile, that’s perfect for him.
Relationships: Bart Allen/Jaime Reyes
Series: save the last dance for me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1435975
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	'til tomorrow and for all of our lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [National_Nobody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/National_Nobody/gifts), [LesbianaCansada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianaCansada/gifts), [sxndythinkstoomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxndythinkstoomuch/gifts).



> FINALLY!!! This only took me about three hundred fucking years, but I have finally managed to finish day 6 of Bluepulse Week 2020! Funnily enough, day 6 was the first one I started writing when I found out about Bluepulse Week, but I sorely miscalculated how much it would take me to write it, since I'm hella attached to this AU in particular. 
> 
> For all of those who don't know anything about wedding AU, I think this installment can absolutely be read as a standalone! It has a lot of world building on its own, and I think you don't need to know much of what happened in the first one to actually read this one. If you're interested in knowing what happened five years ago for these two dorks, anyways, I invite you to go read my very own [the groom's side](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20009821) and enjoy 13k of bluepulse meet-cute! 
> 
> Wedding AU is one of my dearest AUs, if I'm being completely honest, and I have so much prepped and actually outlined for it, it's ridiculous! I'm not entirely sure if I'll ever get around to writing everything I want to write about this world, but I think the beginning and the end are a good start! I was talking to Lyssa about how I'm _maaaaaybe_ gonna write a series of small snippets of things that happened in the Allen-Reyes wedding that couldn't be included here (with, like, Tim and Kon, who are mysteriously absent today, or Teddy's speech) but we'll get there when we get there. 
> 
> And in that subject, I'd like to thank Lyssa, my dearest friend and beta, who not only helps me edit these things so they're comprehensible, but she also gives me little live comments that make me hella die every time I see them in our shared Google Doc. She's not only my quality control for end lines, but also the sweetest person to have ever existed. To Sandy, I know how much you love wedding AU, so this one goes out for you, as well. Thank you for supporting my late night rambles and voicenotes over 5 minutes. For Jax, know that getting to talk to you about the boys has made me so happy and has given me much motivation to keep writing for them. This one's for you, too, you wonderful being of light. 
> 
> And to all the bluepulse contributors, commenters, rebloggers and supporters, thank you for making last week so amazing! I hope y'all like today's event!

Austin is warmer this time of the year than Central City is, but the room is still chilly when Bart wakes up that morning. The curtains flutter softly just before the open window and Allen can hear the faint humming of the neighbor’s car starting up next door. He flops over onto his belly, burrowing into the pillows and covers to try to keep his body heat from escaping. The air smells like coffee and eggs. Morgan’s high pitched squealing comes from somewhere in the living room downstairs and Bart smiles. 

  
  


His throat is sore, he notices, and he can almost hear his boyfriend’s voice chiding him for sleeping with the window open in the middle of November. Bart shushes the imaginary voice as he pulls himself up from his bed (his very tiny bed). 

  
  


Rubbing at his eyes with the palm of his hands, Bart can’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach. Their wings tickle his insides and he feels laughter bubble up his throat without meaning to. A small burst of half-groan, half-chuckle comes out from parted lips. 

  
  


It’s his wedding day. 

  
  


The thought makes Bart warm all over (not enough to keep the early morning chill out, but good enough). He stands up to close the window before he keeps making himself sick. Downstairs, there’s another squeal and Steve’s laughter, followed by Tony’s quick reprimand of both his daughter and husband about sitting down to eat breakfast. Bart’s stomach makes a low rumbling sound. 

  
  


It’s his  _ goddamned _ wedding day.

  
  


As he kneels down to reclaim the slipper that Rascal had probably pushed under the bed yesterday night, Bart thinks about how long he’s been waiting for this day to come. Planning had come as easy as breathing (after coordinating Barry’s wedding for him, how could it not?), but the months had still dragged on painfully slow as they waited for November 15th to finally roll around. 

  
  


It was chilly this morning in Austin, Texas, but Bart was happy and buzzing with energy. 

  
  


He makes it downstairs still in his pajamas and catches Morgan as she swings herself against him. She’s gotten so much bigger than last year (she’s been hitting growth spurts left and right since she turned nine) but Bart doesn’t think she’ll stop pouncing at people anytime soon. Allen mock-grunts with the effort, saying something about his knees and how he’s getting too old to carry precious little Starks around. 

  
  


“You’re only 25!” she tells him, as he sets her down on the bar stool in the kitchen, “And you’re built like a wall.” 

  
  


Bart frowns, “I like to think I’m built more gracefully than a wall," he says, "like maybe a ballet dancer." 

  
  


Morgan giggles, shaking her head. Bart can see so much of Tony in her (with Pepper's bright blue eyes and intelligent wit), but there's something so uniquely Steve in the way that she laughs. Morgan has taken to her second dad ( _ Pops _ , when she's trying to talk him into something) like a moth to flame in these past five years and the Allen's have come to consider her nothing less than family. 

  
  


"You're a wall, Uncle Barty," she tells him then, smiling Tony's smile, "a big, old, boring wall." 

  
  


Bart proceeds to stick his tongue out at her, like the refined adult man he is, and gets swatted with a spatula by Tony. He whines in protest, about to say something about it being his wedding day, but his cousin-in-law simply sets a plated omelette in front of him that shuts him right up. Steve teases him about being easily won over, to which Bart kicks his knee under the table. 

  
  


Breakfast is homey and familiar, especially in the house that had been his and Steve’s for so long before it became the Stark-Rogers home. The small suburban home is still littered with objects of Bart’s childhood, despite it being re-occupied by Steve and his family only four years ago. From old pictures frayed at the edges to paintings they had done together when Bart was just finding his footing, the place held vestiges of the domestic life Steve and Barry had tried his best to give their younger cousin. 

  
  


Bart had been around seven when Joan had fallen ill. His cousins, already way ahead of him in life because of how far apart their ages had been, had already relocated to different states, working out their own lives. Clint and Barry were both in California by then. Although separated by some miles, the twins were never further apart than a couple of hours by car, and they visited each other regularly. Steve had moved to Austin to attend UT’s College of Fine Arts to get his History of Art degree at eighteen and had decided to stay out there a couple of years before he could shoot up to New York with Bucky. 

  
  


Things hadn’t worked out for any of the Allens back then. Jay was concerned about giving Bart a “normal life” which he translated into shipping the youngest of his grandsons off to Austin with Steve, away from illness and the stench of probable death. He had screamed and wailed back then, clinging to Joan for dear life (trying not to hurt her fragile frame anymore than it already seemed to be), but he had ultimately lost the battle against both Jay and Steve’s pleading. 

  
  


Clint returned to Central City, ever the committed older cousin, and settled in the old Allen home to take care of his grandparents. Natasha had gone with him, too, and provided financial security in uncertain times, something that made her even more part of the family than she already had been. Bart remained in Austin, fretting over Joan, far away in a hospital bed. His older cousin tried to keep him happy and occupied, teaching him to draw, sketch, and paint on canvas.

  
  


Near the end of the first year, Barry came to help Steve. Hal didn’t necessarily come with him back then, but the pilot came and went and crashed on the sofa too often to not be considered part of the little domestic oasis the three cousins had created for themselves. Regular visits up to Central City were arranged at the start of every month, and it went on like that for the next three years.

  
  


Joan got better when Bart turned ten. Clint had been running himself thin and the sudden shift in their grandmother’s health nearly brought the eldest Allen to tears. Barry and he hugged it out in the hospital waiting room, while Steve and Bart snuck in to say hello to their grandmother and sing her praises. The youngest Allen wasn’t big enough then to not fit into Joan’s bed with her, but Steve had broad shoulders by then and had insisted he fit in that bed with Joan, too, nevermind if they broke the goddamn bed. 

  
  


Their grandmother’s laughter, high and  _ alive _ , made it worth all the fuss the nurses did when they found the three of them cuddling in the hospital room. 

  
  


Joan was taken home a couple of months after, although the scare of losing her never wore off. The doctors assured Clint that the possibility of relapse was very small, and that they should be thankful for her recovery, but the eldest of the twins still decided to stay in Central City for the foreseeable future. He and Natasha got their own apartment downtown and started creating their own domestic bliss. 

  
  


Bart pleaded his case to move back to Central City, too, with shitty power-point included, and was met with eager acceptance by Steve and Jay both. Barry couldn’t stand being alone in Coast City without his family (Hal had started dating Carol around the time, too), so he shipped himself off with the rest of the Allen bunch back home. Bart claimed his old room, and Steve and Barry got themselves an apartment close to Clint so they could drive him nuts. 

  
  


The little home in Austin had been a landmark for both Steve and Bart, which is why it didn’t surprise Bart when his cousin decided to buy it back as soon as the possibility of starting a new family became a fact rather than a fantasy. Tony acquiesced easily, so long as he could set up a lab in the basement and Morgan could have her own room. 

  
  


“Hey, lil’ slugger?” Steve’s voice breaks through Bart’s train of thought, and the man turns to look at his cousin with a spoonful of omelette in his mouth, “I said--are you excited for today?” 

  
  


Bart swallows, and grins right after, “I could vibrate out of my own skin right now,” he says simply, and Steve coos, “I can’t believe I’m getting married to the love of my life.” 

  
  


“You’re lucky you found him early,” Tony tells him, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he colors in one of Morgan’s old coloring books, “And that he’s not emotionally constipated.”

  
  


“Who’s emotionally constipated?” Steve retorts, moving Tony’s elbow so he’d color out of the line, eliciting a curse from the other man that Morgan answers with a high pitched ‘you owe me a dollar!’

  
  


“You both were,” Bart says, matter-of-factly, and shoves the last forkful of egg-y goodness into his mouth, “It was sad and pathetic to watch.” 

  
  


Morgan giggles and Bart has the sudden thought that he shouldn’t be teaching her how to make fun of her dads. Especially not when Pepper knows exactly where he and Jaime live. 

  
  


Before he can course correct, the sound of the front door interrupts his thoughts and a chill runs up Bart’s spine. It’s still cold out and he forgot to put on his hoodie before coming down for breakfast. Morgan hops off her stool and off she goes to meet the new guests across the living room. Leaning a little back on his own perch, Bart catches the tail end of Barry getting tackled by the littlest Stark. 

  
  


“Hey, hey, hey!” Hal’s voice comes from behind Barry, coming to mess with Morgan’s already naturally tangle-y hair even more so, “Hands off the husband, you know I get jealous, Moguna!” 

  
  


Morgan squeals, swatting Hal away while still trying to hold on to Barry for dear life. The blonde man laughs, hoisting the little girl up his hip a tad higher to keep her from slipping out of his grasp, twisting away from his husband to avoid more of this nonsensical fight. The pilot does give up eventually, poking his tongue out at Morgan when the girl tells him Barry prefers her, and stalks over to the kitchen. 

  
  


Draped over Hal’s left arm is Bart’s suit. 

  
  


“I want to know, right now, who your favorite cousin-in-law is,” Hal says, keeping the garment bag away from Bart’s outstretched arms, “I  _ need _ to know your answer.” 

  
  


Bart rolls his eyes, letting his arms drop, before answering simply, “You’re my favorite cousin-in-law, it is you--can I have my suit now?” 

  
  


Hal doesn’t seem convinced, but he passes the hanger over to the youngest Allen without making much more of a fuss. Tony comments next to him that it’s obvious Natasha’s the superior cousin-in-law in this family. Bart makes a small hum of agreement, already standing up to manage his suit a little bit better. 

  
  


Unzipping the bag carefully, Bart takes a peek at the inside, catching the soft blue of a flower-patterned tie against the darker navy of the suit’s jacket. Heat pools in his stomach, electricity coursing through the tips of his fingers where he’s touching his suit--the suit he’s getting married in--and he smiles, bright and unabashedly. 

  
  


“Someone’s happy to get married,” Hal crones at him, stretching over to pinch his cheek, “How was the night without Jaime? Ted told me earlier that your idiot fiancé couldn’t sleep and ended up sitting in his and Michael’s bed at ungodly hours of the morning.” 

  
  


Something stirs happily inside Bart, but he does try to play it cool, “I slept well, I was just a little cold.” 

  
  


“You tossed and turned the entire night,” Morgan pipes up, the little traitor, “You  _ miiiissed _ Uncle Jaime.” 

  
  


Bart pokes his tongue out at her, passing by her side on Barry’s arms and flicking her forehead. Tony objects somewhere behind his back, but Bart is already halfway upstairs by the time this happens, a soft smile playing on his lips. Someone says something downstairs just as he goes into his room, the words drowned out by his door clicking shut. 

  
  


He rushes over to hang his suit in the open door of what used to be Clint’s old wardrobe, and pulls the zipper down to the bottom, finally looking at his suit head on. There’s a small note peeking out of the suit’s breast pocket, Bart notices, and pulls it out without a second thought. 

  
  


Jaime’s neat, all-capped handwriting greets him. 

  
  


‘Are you doing anything later?’ 

  
  


Bart snorts, moving to grab his phone from his nightstand, green eyes never leaving the suit put out in front of him. Quickly, he types out a reply. 

  
  


‘I’m afraid I have a previous engagement.’ 

  
  


// 

  
  


Jaime groans pathetically, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin and nervous out of his mind as his  _ tías _ keep asking questions about kids and family and a picket fence that he honestly hadn’t given too much thought to. He curses his luck that he  _ actually _ has family in Austin, and tries to hide himself behind his hands--fruitlessly. 

  
  


The Roger-Starks had invited them into their home easily, although they clearly didn’t have enough rooms in their small suburban home, but Jaime’s mother had declined politely in favor of bunking it with her older sister and the rest of the Leal family. She had also been rather insistent on Jaime and Bart sleeping apart the night before their wedding, something that the younger Reyes had moaned and whined about endlessly. He had been living with Bart in Dallas for over two years now. The whole ‘sleeping together’ wasn’t a thing that was any less real just because they didn’t spend the night before their wedding in the same bed.

  
  


“ _ Mijo _ , I just think it’s a very valid question!” His  _ tía _ Sol urges him, “Adoption might be a little harder here in Texas, all things considered, but why not think about it?” 

  
  


“ _ Ay, tía, _ ” Jaime whines, “Bart and I will discuss that when the time comes, if it ever does come.” 

  
  


Watching his son’s discomfort from afar, Alberto thought it was about time he moved in to rescue the groom-to-be before the questions got even more out of hand. Swooping in with excuses of a car emergency outside, Jaime’s dad effectively cut the women’s chatter off and left with one more son under his arm. 

  
  


Outside, Milagro was sitting under the porch, busying herself with an open book on her lap and a highlighter in her right hand. She’s chewing the cap of it comically when the two men find her, but she doesn’t stop her muffled muttering around it when her father and brother come to sit to her sides. Jaime takes a quick peek at her open book, but she closes it before he can take a guess at what it’s about. 

  
  


“Are you guys running from  _ tía _ Sol?” she asks, capping her highlighter again. 

  
  


“More like hiding from all of them,” Jaime answers, leaning back on his hands and taking a big breath. 

  
  


“ _ All _ the  _ tías _ ?” Milagro teases, bumping her shoulder against his. 

  
  


He turns to look at her, and completely dead-pan, says, “ _ All of the tías,  _ Milagro. Literally  _ all of them _ .” 

  
  


She smiles at him like maybe he’s just a little bit crazy, and Jaime thinks she’s been right about that since before she could give him that look. There is a lull, a silence that stretches across the three Reyes’ shoulders like a blanket, securing them in the moment, and Milagro leans against her brother’s side. Her added weight is kind of uncomfortable to carry on his wrists. 

  
  


Like this, Milagro looks a little bit like her eight year old self again, and Jaime readjusts their position until he has an arm around her. Like she’s a precious thing he has to protect with his life, no matter the cost. His chest feels constricted with emotion, because she’s 21 already, off to college, fighting her own battles, protesting, screaming to the stars of injustice, and Jaime doesn’t think he can protect her forever. 

  
  


“When you first came out to us,” his father’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and Jaime looks over the mop of Milagro’s curly hair, sniffling once, “I cannot say I wasn’t taken aback by it.” 

  
  


The words lodge themselves somewhere in Jaime’s sternum, right underneath his heart, and they make it hard to breathe. Milagro’s arms tighten around him just a tad, the unspoken promise of a sibling that would fight on your side in any battle--even on this one. 

  
  


Neither sibling does anything, however. Jaime and Milagro wait. 

  
  


“I know your mother had her suspicions,” Alberto says next, “but I suppose somewhere in my stupid head I had gotten it in that maybe you could end up with a nice girl, and we could leave the whole debacle behind us. Something else to add to the list of things I had been too afraid to come to terms with.” 

  
  


“ _ Pa’ _ ,” Milagro’s voice is dangerously low, but she doesn’t make a movement to turn. Just a warning. Just a small warning. Jaime squeezes her shoulder in return, begging her to give their father a break. 

  
  


“I know,  _ mija _ ,” the older man says, and Jaime notices, not for the first time, the white strands of hair already littering the black curls Milagro used to pull at when she was a baby, “I was a bit slower on the uptake than your mother was, Jaime. That never meant I loved you any less as my son. Even when I didn’t know how to feel about it all, I knew in my heart I would still lay my life down at your feet were you to ask.” 

  
  


Jaime would never, but he leaves the reassurance unspoken, certain that his father would know. Besides him, Milagro relaxes considerably, melting into her brother’s side and sighing a soft breath. The small bundle of tension in his chest releases, allowing him to breathe again.

  
  


“With Ted and Michael, I had gotten used to the idea,” Alberto continues, “There was nothing else I ever knew--no Ted before, and  _ definitely _ no Mike before. They were as they had always been to me, and so it became a fact that I accepted. Ted was important to both your mother and me. He was a good man, committed to doing what was right even at such a young age. He was and would always be the same Ted Kord whose life your mother saved and who had been so deeply grateful that he dedicated his life to being good.” 

  
  


Jaime has no idea where his dad is going with this. After he came out, Jaime had taken the administrative decision to give his parents some space, bunking it with Ted and Michael for over a week, even if his parents hadn’t really given him much of a reaction. After a while, Alberto had come looking for him, and they exchanged hugs, but no words before heading back home. Jaime had only ever talked about the whole ‘debacle’ (as his father had called it earlier) with his mom, in the privacy of her office at the clinic, and with some beers already in his system. The conversation with his father never really came. 

  
  


“When you brought that boy home,” Alberto says again, “I knew it from the second I saw you interact that he was the man you were going to share the rest of your life with, and something clicked with me. Something that hadn’t clicked with me before but that made all the final pieces fall into place.” 

  
  


Jaime nods, although he has no idea why he’s doing it. Milagro finally decides to show her face to their father, probably wishing to understand this conversation by Alberto’s facial expressions alone. Jaime doesn’t think his sister will have that much luck. 

  
  


“I taught you to cry, Jaime,” his father says, a proud smile on his face, and something aches in the younger man’s chest--something deep and familiar, “I had taught you to stand up for yourself, to express your thoughts, to leave behind those stupid ideas of what my dad had taught me a man was supposed to be. I taught you kindness, and I taught you love, and when you brought that boy home I knew…” 

  
  


Alberto’s voice cracks somewhere at the end, and he has to take a moment to recompose, “I know I probably won’t be able to say any of this at your actual wedding, which is why Teddy is in charge of that, but Jaime, back then I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were  _ my _ son and I was blessed to have you share your happiness with me.” 

  
  


“Ay,  _ pa’ _ ,” Milagro’s voice sounds a little stuffy, but Jaime doesn’t mock her for it, “why did you have to say all that while I was here, now we’re all gonna be ugly crying.” 

  
  


Jaime’s laugh is wet, teary at the edges, and he presses his sister closer to his side, “Speak for yourself,  _ enana _ , I’m a pretty crier.” 

  
  


Alberto laughs, too, shaking his head, “No, she’s right--we’re all ugly criers.” 

  
  


Jaime steels himself against the barrage of emotions building up in him, feelings in his chest burning bright and candidly. He takes a deep, stuttering breath, earning him a complaint from his sister. He completely ignores it, and turns watery eyes at his dad. 

  
  


“I love you,  _ pa’ _ ,” he says, “I can’t imagine myself doing this without you.” 

  
  


// 

  
  


The two families arrive at the venue at the same time. Decorators are already busy setting everything up, and Bart is talking to the wedding planner when he hears the Reyes file into the room. He wraps up his conversation with the woman quickly, thanking her for her job, before turning on his heels to smile at his soon-to-be husband standing at the entrance.

  
  


“Hey,  _ correcaminos _ ,” Jaime greets him, as soon as Allen pulls him into his arms, “I’m happy to see you, too.” 

  
  


Bart hums, kissing the top of Jaime’s head, “Ted’s been telling everyone you cried because you couldn’t sleep with me.” 

  
  


Jaime snorts, pushing his fiancé off of him playfully, “Shut up, I didn’t cry,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “I just sat in their bed ‘til like 5 a. m.” 

  
  


“And talked your poor _ padrino’s _ ear off,” Jaime’s mom pipes up, sliding over to stand next to Bart with a cheeky grin on her face, “Your  _ tía _ Sol could hear you from her room.” 

  
  


Bart laughs heartily, wrapping his right arm around his mother-in-law’s shoulders and bringing her in a one-armed hug. The woman laughs, her own arm coming to circle his waist loosely, pressing herself to his side affectionately. Jaime feels something warm bloom in his chest, the sudden realization that this was the man he was going to marry in just a couple of hours hitting him full force. 

  
  


He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Bart looks at him with furrowed brows and a frown on his face, reaching out with his left hand to brush at his cheeks, “Sweetheart? Are you alright?” 

  
  


“What?” Jaime answers, and finds his voice wobbly, “Oh,  _ mierda _ \--,” ( _ ‘¡Jaime! Te voy a lavar la boca con jabón’ _ ) “Sorry! I’m alright. I just got really overwhelmed for a second there.” 

  
  


Laughter bubbles out of Bart comically, like he wasn’t quite expecting it to happen and was nervous about it. He pinches Jaime’s cheek affectionately, feeling the urge to press him against his chest again, but makes no move to do so, choosing instead to cradle Jaime’s cheek in his hand. His soon-to-be husband leans into the touch, smiling softly, and they stay like that for a second before Bart drops his hand altogether. The arm Allen had been holding around Bianca loosens up and she steps forward to press a small kiss to her son’s cheek. 

  
  


“Now,” she says, pressing her hands to Jaime’s shoulders, “Say goodbye to Bart, you guys aren’t supposed to be seeing each other until the ceremony.” 

  
  


Jaime whines something inhuman in the back of his throat, throwing his head back like a petulant child who’s just been told they can’t have the last cookie in the jar. Bianca shushes him, telling him that she might be no expert on same-sex weddings but that if she didn’t let Ted see Michael a full 48 hours before the two got married, then Jaime could suck it up. 

  
  


Bart only laughs, swooping in to get one final forehead kiss before Reyes is taken away by his mother, who bids him goodbye, and walks her son to the opposite side to the room the Allens had picked for him. The auburn haired man waves a cheeky hand at his husband-to-be and blows a kiss to the air that makes Jaime bristle. 

  
  


“Co-conspirators!” the man yells, as he’s dragged to the next hallway, “I can’t believe you’re turning me away like this,  _ mi amor _ .” 

  
  


Whatever Jaime says next is drowned out when his mother turns the next corner, and Bart smiles dumbly at the archway where the two of them had disappeared into. The first time he had seen Jaime, across the dance floor at Steve’s wedding all those years ago, he had mistaken the man for a completely put-together being that was way out of his league. While Allen still believed that his fiancé was an ethereal creature he had no business being with, he now knew how much of a dork Jaime could be. 

  
  


A warm hand falls on his shoulder, and Bart twists his body to look over his right. Clint grins at him, his wife just to his side, holding a disposable camera in front of her face as the flash goes off and the shutter clicks in Bart’s ears. Natasha mumbles something under her breath in russian that Allen doesn’t care to translate (he’d taken Intro to Russian Lit in college for no reason, and he was good with languages), and his cousin brings him in for a bone-crushing hug before Bart can think to rub the light spots out of his eyes. 

  
  


“Can’t say I’m too excited to watch my kid get married,” Clint tells him, as soon as they’re apart again and he can ruffle Bart’s hair, “But at least it’s a nice autumn day.” 

  
  


Natasha elbows him in the ribs, to which her husband retaliates by swatting her away childishly, “Don’t be a prick, Jaime is a great kid.” 

  
  


“See?” another voice joins the conversation as Tony and Hal walk from the opposite archway where Jaime and his mother had disappeared into, “That’s why Natasha is the favorite in-law.” 

  
  


Hal snorts, stopping just behind Natasha to hook his arms around her waist, chin coming to rest on her shoulder. She laughs, the hand that isn’t holding the disposable camera coming to tangle in Jordan’s brown locks. Natasha mumbles something into the side of his head, kissing his cheek in greeting, years of familiarity seeping into their interactions like second nature. Bart feels warmth spread across his chest. His family is all here. 

  
  


“But  _ I’m _ Natasha’s favorite,” Hal finally says, to which Nat only laughs again, shaking her head, “I’m even above Clint so like what does that say about you?” 

  
  


“No,” Natasha answers, rubbing her fingers through his hair, “the only person above Clint is probably Barry. We all know which twin I like better.” 

  
  


Clint huffs, crossing his arms across his chest, “I want a divorce.” 

  
  


“I don’t think you really want to do that,” Bart reminds his cousin, “she’ll represent herself and you’ll be left only with Lucky’s bed--not the dog, just her bed.” 

  
  


“Also,” Tony says, “the Allens will most definitely disown you.” 

  
  


“Oh, we sure will,” Jay laughs, coming through the entrance, as Joan holds on to his arm, Steve walking on the opposite side to help her along, “You divorce our favorite daughter-in-law,” (‘Your  _ only _ daughter in law, Jay, come on.’) “and we will most definitely kick you out of our home.” 

  
  


Bart rushes over to grab the bag Jay’s holding on his right arm, earning him a small chastising from his grandfather that doesn’t do anything to deter him.

  
  


“Doctor’s been telling you to stop lugging things around, Jay, gosh,” Bart tells him, shaking his head, “Why didn’t you take this from him, Steve?” 

  
  


Steve sighs, rolling his eyes, “You think I didn’t try?” he asks, “He’s stubborn, you know.” 

  
  


“My Jay certainly is,” Joan says, smiling warmly up at her husband, “but you ought to listen to your sons. They’re looking out for you.” 

  
  


“And I’m looking out for you, sweetness,” Jay retaliates, kissing the top of her head, “but nevermind that. It’s our youngest’s wedding day.” 

  
  


Joan turns to look at Bart now, shuffling forward until she can press a shaking hand to his neck. He’s much too tall for her now, so his clavicle is the highest she can reach. He takes the affection gladly, leaning as much as he can to make it easier for her, and she smiles like he’s put up all the stars in the night sky himself. 

  
  


“Look at you, all grown up,” Joan says, “you’ve turned into such a fine young man, Bartholomew. I’m proud to call you my son.” 

  
  


Bart swallows down the knot in his throat, nodding once, unsure of what to say. Joan tends to get things like that mixed up nowadays, but the sincerity in her voice was enough to make the youngest Allen want to cry. They all knew she remembered her actual children (Nora, and Sara, and Don and Dawn) but the blood lines had become blurry in her head. For her, by now, her grandsons were nothing less than her sons. They didn’t know if that slip of her mind was intentional or not, but sometimes she’d even forget Clint and Steve’s last names weren’t Allen anymore. 

  
  


“I’m proud to call you my mother, too,” Bart says, holding her fragile hand against his clavicle loosely, “Thank you, Joan. I wouldn’t be me without you.” 

  
  


He leans further down when she asks him to, and receives a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm and affectionate, and it reminds Bart of their summers in Central City, helping her tend to her garden. The beautiful marigolds she had planted there for him were always taken care of, even when she had been sick. Bart sometimes felt as if she had planted the flowers in his chest instead. 

  
  


“Time to find you a place to rest, Nana,” Steve tells her softly, herding her away from Bart, “Aren’t you feeling tired?” 

  
  


“You’re such a worrywart, Steven,” she tells him, but lets herself be pulled away anyways, “I don’t know how that husband of yours puts up with you.” 

  
  


Tony laughs merrily, sliding over to Jay and taking Joan’s arm from him to help his husband find the room they had prepared for her inside the venue, “It helps to have an adult in the house,” he says cheekily, “Plus he cooks some great meals--heard he got that from you.” 

  
  


Jay stays behind, rolling his eyes at his son-in-law, “You’ve used that line on her three times in the past five years, Antonio. Give it up.” 

  
  


“Well, I like it,” Joan answers, leaning against Tony’s side a little more than necessary, which Tony takes proudly, “Let the boy suck up to me as much as he wants.” 

  
  


“He’s hardly a boy,” Jay calls out after her, but doesn’t manage to hear whatever she answers back to him. He laughs anyway. 

  
  


“How was the flight here, Pops?” Bart asks as soon as Jay has turned back towards him, “Hope it wasn’t too much on you--I know you’d rather we have our wedding in Central City.” 

  
  


Jay waves his hand around, coming to circle his boy’s shoulders with his other arm, “Nonsense, Bart. We would’ve travelled underground for your wedding--where’s older Bartholomew, by the way?” 

  
  


Bart snorts, “He’s still trying to get Lucky and Rascal into their bowties.” 

  
  


“Has he had any luck?” 

  
  


“No,” the youngest Allen says, “I actually heard him yell for Rascal a little while ago, I think he lost sight of the two trouble makers.” 

  
  


“Your cousins and their dogs,” Jay groans, coming to cover his eyes with his hand, “why couldn’t any of them get any cats? Like your fiancé. Khaji is a much more manageable creature--although his name is interesting.” 

  
  


“He’s also an asshole!” Clint retaliates, as he walks away, looking curiously at the decor, “All cats are! You can’t tell me they aren’t!” 

  
  


“We’re adopting a stray soon, Jay,” Natasha assures him, bringing her camera up to her face again to capture Bart with his grandfather, “We’ll call him Jason on your behalf.” 

  
  


Both Allen men smile wide as the camera’s flash goes off, and the woman hums in appreciation. 

  
  


“Isn’t Jason a very human name to call a cat?” Jay inquires, and Natasha just looks at him knowingly. “Ah, you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

  
  


“If I am, will I stop being your favorite in-law?” the woman arches an eyebrow inquisitively. 

  
  


Jay swats a hand her way, nonchalant, “You wouldn’t stop being my favorite even if you divorced Clint, imagine that.” 

  
  


“Then,” she says, “I  _ am _ teasing you. We’re actually naming our cat Inspector.” 

  
  


“A good, proper name for a feline, indeed.” 

  
  


Natasha bows exaggeratedly. Over the years she’s been dating and married to Clint (at a staggering 27 years, their relationship was older than even Bart himself), the woman had learned not to take herself too seriously around the Allens, especially. She was still fearless in the courtrooms, and defended their clients like a knight with a sword, but around her family, she was soft and goofy. Bart relished those moments. He had known her his entire life and he still marvelled at the small familiar moments he had with her. 

  
  


“Usually it’s your husband holding the camera,” Bart tells her suddenly, his thoughts jumping from point A to point B like they usually do, “did he rope you into it?” 

  
  


“Have you ever known her to listen to anything I tell her?” Clint asks, already somewhere down the small aisle the decorators had created with chairs lining each side. He seems to be inspecting the flowers very carefully. 

  
  


Natasha shrugs, smiling softly, “I wanted to try something new for you and Jaime,” she answers, “Your cousin is bringing his actual camera later--it’s in our car. He said he’ll get some pro shots for you because he’s nice like that.” 

  
  


Bart laughs, leaning his head down on Jay’s shoulder, “I think we hired a professional for that,” then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Actually, I’m pretty sure one of Jaime’s college friends is also doing that exact same thing--I have to ask him if Dave made it to Austin.” 

  
  


Clint straightens up from his place looking at the hydrangeas, and turns to Bart, “Whoever that Dave dude is, if he steps on my mojo, I’ll be pissed.” 

  
  


“No fights with twenty-year-olds,” Natasha threatens, turning to look at her husband with narrowed eyes, “I prohibit you from fighting with people who are half your age. Especially if they’re guests to our little brother’s wedding.” 

  
  


Clint looks particularly smug when Natasha’s ears turn bright red, as she turns to Bart to apologize for her little slip. Bart’s smile is so big it kinda hurts his cheeks, and he untangles himself from his grandfather to go wrap his cousin-in-law ( _ sister _ -in-law) in his arms, giving her a good squeeze while pulling her up from the ground. 

  
  


Natasha squeals, snorting like she does when she’s laughing sincerely, and Bart puts her down again, “Little brother is fine,” he tells her, kissing her cheek, “little brother is actually perfect. You know that.” 

  
  


The red haired woman scrunches up her nose, turning away, embarrassed, and says, “Let’s go get you ready, how about that?” 

  
  


// 

  
  


“Will you quit your fidgeting, Jaime?” 

  
  


Brenda’s voice is forced through gritted teeth as she tries to finish tying Jaime’s red tie around his neck. Reyes had been a mess since his two childhood friends made it to the venue, having been picked up from the airport by Ted earlier. The groom-to-be had been busy pacing the expanse of the room assigned to him at the venue, muttering incoherencies under his breath and slowly taking off the suit his mother had already helped him put on. 

  
  


By the time Paco and Brenda made it to the place, Jaime had already tossed his tie somewhere, his jacket somewhere else, and his peach button up was but a heap of discarded clothing on the floor. His mother had already tried to calm him down, but the closer the clock ticked to the hour of the ceremony, the more frantic Jaime became. 

  
  


Eventually, Brenda had managed to calm him down. It had taken one cold splash of water to the face and fair share of dull slaps to his cheeks, but Jaime had calmed down enough to tell his best friends’ how nervous he was about getting married. There had been tears, and plenty of hugs, but he was not going to think about that moment of weakness. 

  
  


When Brenda finally finishes his tie, she turns him around to face the mirror on the wall and smiles over his shoulder, “See? All good. You look very handsome, nothing to worry about.” 

  
  


Jaime grimaces, brown eyes meeting amber in the mirror and he sighs, “What would I do without you?” 

  
  


Paco answers for his wife, burger in hand, “We’d both be dead!” he proclaims, like he’s proud he’s been mooching off of Brenda all these years, “I probably wouldn’t have graduated high school, much less community college, and we’d be dead in a ditch.” 

  
  


“I think  _ you _ would’ve, not Jaime,” she corrects, smiling sweetly either way, “I think Jaime already had plenty of good role models in his life to keep him straight.” 

  
  


“Not straight,” Jaime quips back, “full bi, remember?” 

  
  


Brenda swats at him, “Shut up, you idiot. We know you’re bi--we get it, you’ve been reminding us once every day for the past ten years.” 

  
  


“Then I haven’t been telling you enough,” Reyes says, grinning, his previous nerves drowned out by the easy camaraderie he has with his oldest friends, “Might need to up that statistic to three time per day, at  _ least _ .” 

  
  


“God, you’re obnoxious,” Brenda rolls her eyes, “it’s a good thing you’re cute or your fiancé would be halfway out the door already.” 

  
  


“Brenda! Don’t tell the man that!” Paco chastises her around his bite of burger, “He was two seconds away from climbing out the window when we got there and now you’re instilling more fear into his heart?  _ Nombre, mujer, te la bañas _ .” 

  
  


“Oh, shut up,” Brenda retaliates, pointing at Jaime behind her, “he’s perfectly fine.” 

  
  


“Yeah, yeah,” Jaime answers, voice shaky, “it’s not like I was scared that my soon-to-be husband would think twice about this whole affair and skip out the doors before Ted could block the exits! I’m totally cool, totally chill, chiller than the arctic, chiller than the glacier that--” 

  
  


Brenda surges forward to snap a hand over his mouth, giving Jaime a hard look, “If you go down that ‘chill’ tangent again like you did thirty minutes ago, I  _ will  _ drop kick you.” 

  
  


Jaime’s voice dies out behind her palm, and he nods a few times in understanding. Brenda never really did grow out of the ‘threats of physical violence’ thing, and though Reyes knew she would  _ not _ drop kick him on his wedding day, he also valued this suit a little too much to let himself be trampled on while he had just put it on again. 

  
  


“Listen, Jaime,” Paco’s the one who begins, while Brenda puts her hand away, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about here today. Bart is hopelessly in love with you--we’ve both seen it with our own eyes.” 

  
  


“Yeah!” Brenda agrees, “He looks at you like you’re his sun, and moon, and all the stars in his night sky. How could he ever, in good conscience, walk out on you when he’s been nothing but brimming with excitement since the day you proposed?” 

  
  


Jaime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have an answer. He remembers the day he finally got the courage to ask Bart to marry him. It had been nothing special, despite the fact that he had prepared it down to the exact time of the day he would be doing it, and Jaime had blurted out the words before he could think of stopping himself. He had been getting help from his family and friends, getting ready for the day to arrive, only to find his courage the night before it was meant to happen. He hadn’t had the silver band with him then, but he’d looked right at Bart’s eyes and known it was the time. 

  
  


_ Let me be your husband? _

  
  


His words had been good, at least, even if they were stuttered out in the winter air as the two of them looked at the stars overhead while February passed them by. Bart had stared at Jaime for the longest time, wispy, red lashes mixed with white snowflakes that melted ridiculously quick due to the runner’s body temperature. Bart let out an exhale that lasted an eternity, and then surged forward in the snow to kiss Jaime senseless. 

  
  


“He loves you,” Paco tells him, the hand that hadn’t been holding the burger landing on his shoulder, “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make that go away anytime soon.” 

  
  


Jaime takes in a deep breath, steeling himself, and tries not to burst out crying. He’s been brimming with emotion the entire week, and today has only proven more difficult to keep his feelings at bay. He had already cried with his dad, had cried seeing Bart again, had cried some more with his mother, cried when Brenda and Paco found him half undressed and in panic, and he has the distinct feeling he’ll be doing a lot more than just a little crying before the day is over. 

  
  


He exhales, air coming out of him in shaky bursts, and Brenda presses a hand against his cheek before pulling him into a hug. She smells of peppermint and her  _ Tía  _ Amparo’s perfume, something that hasn’t changed over the years. Paco’s arms come around them both, snuggling his wife and best friend, dropping his head somewhere over Brenda’s. Jaime feels himself shake under their embrace, but he’s being held, and it makes the panic a little bit more bearable. 

  
  


He’s known Paco and Brenda his entire life. They’ve held him through his toughest times, picked him up when he needed a pick up, carried him home on the few times he was black-out drunk after a party--he’d need hands upon hands to actually count the amount of times Paco and Brenda had been there for him. Not to mention Jaime had done the same for them plenty of times before--he’d even stood by Paco’s side and whispered his vows to him when he’d been too nervous to remember them at their wedding. 

  
  


He stands there, engulfed by the quiet comfort of his very best friends, and he thinks he might be alright. 

  
  
  


// 

  
  


Barry arrives comically late after having to look for Lucky and Rascal around the venue’s perimeter for the past three hours. He just barely misses the small rock-paper-scissors tournament the rest of Bart’s cousins (in-laws included) held that ultimately decided Steve would have the honor of walking him down the aisle. Bart hadn’t wanted to choose himself, especially since he had wanted it to be Joan and Jay and he felt as if that made him selfish, but now the decision had been made. 

  
  


His namesake whines about it for almost five minutes straight, saying that it wasn’t fair because he hadn’t been around, to which Steve tells him he can rock-paper-scissor him for it. Barry loses anyways, because he’s distinctly bad at rock-paper-scissors, but he takes his defeat with a roll of his eyes and a punch to Steve’s bicep. 

  
  


Natasha and Clint are the first in line to walk into the room. They had changed into their outfits the latest, but they still got front-line rights because Clint was the eldest. Behind them, Hal prattled on to Barry about how disheveled he looked, trying to fix the man’s tie and jacket, but moaning about how it was impossible to get his blonde hair in place. Barry retaliates by bringing both hands up to his husband’s hair and ruffling it. Natasha has to stop them from brawling it out in the lobby. 

  
  


Tony is coming back from helping Joan and Jay into their seats, pulling at his suit and cuffs like he’s nervous but doesn’t want to show it. Pepper, who had arrived hours earlier and had helped make sure everything was in place, comes behind Tony to pass their daughter over to him. She kisses Bart’s cheek and wishes him luck, telling him everyone is in position and that the piano’s already playing. Steve siddles up next to him after kissing Tony’s cheek, and says something that’s lost on his younger cousin’s ears. 

  
  


It is then that Bart’s hands start shaking. 

  
  


“Shit,” he hisses out, looking down at his traitorous digits, “Shit, shit, shitshit _ shit _ .” 

  
  


Steve tenses up next to him, one of his own hands coming to wrap around Bart’s shaking ones. Despite being nearly the same height, Steve had always had bigger hands, broader in the sense that they always seemed all encompassing to Bart. They had held him many times before as a child, and they continued to hold him even through his early teenage years. Steve, who was his solid rock and the one constant in his life. 

  
  


“Hey, little slugger,” Steve tells him, bringing his trembling hands close to his chest, “you good?” 

  
  


“This is easily the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” Bart answers, voice shaky, “I lost my position at the Olympics because of some stupid virus and almost got myself permanently injured in the time in between--and this is seriously the scariest thing I’ve ever had to face.” 

  
  


Steve takes in a deep breath, pulling Bart back away from the line and closer to the entrance of the venue. Tony catches his husband’s eyes and there’s some quick, unspoken conversation between the two of them that the youngest man doesn’t quite catch. He watches as Tony leans forward and taps Barry’s shoulder, pointing briefly behind him as soundless words come out of his mouth. Blue eyes look back at Bart, thin lips frowning, and Barry, in turn, grabs the back of Clint’s jacket and pulls his twin towards the place Steve and Bart are leaning against the door. 

  
  


Bart’s hands won’t stop shaking. 

  
  


“Yo, Bar,” Clint huffs out as soon as Barry let’s him go, just next to Bart, and he tries to put himself back in place, “what the  _ fuck _ , dude?” 

  
  


Barry doesn’t answer, jutting his chin out and pointedly glaring at Clint, “Read the room, idiot.” 

  
  


“Stop squabbling,  _ children _ ,” Steve grits out, arms opening up to each side to grab Bart with his right and Barry with his left, “Huddle up, we’re having an Allen Bunch meeting real quick.” 

  
  


Clint doesn’t even groan about it like he always does, adjusting the hearing aids in his ears before his left arm wraps around Bart, his twin wiggling under his arm to close the circle. Bart shuts his eyes tight, trying to even his breathing out, but his hands are still trembling as they hold on to the back of Steve and Clint’s jackets. 

  
  


Barry wraps both his hands around Bart’s to help. Green eyes meet baby blue in front of him, familiarity washing over him like a blanket. 

  
  


“Listen, all of us in this circle have been married,” Steve begins, “and I think we can all agree it was the scariest thing we’ve ever had to do.” 

  
  


Clint echoes the sentiment saying he almost threw up at his wedding. Barry reminds him cheekily that he actually  _ did _ and complements his thought by saying he barely even remembered how he had gotten to the altar, or when he had said his vows. 

  
  


“Getting married is a long-run commitment, Bart,” Rogers-Stark continues, the hand he holds to the side of Bart’s ribcage warm and comforting, “and it’s okay to be scared shitless right now--” (‘Steven Grant Rogers-Stark!  _ Language _ !’) “--but you’ve got to remember why you’re here and why you  _ chose _ to be here.” 

  
  


“Don’t get us wrong,” Clint continues quickly, “we will  _ absolutely _ help you out the window if you choose not to marry this guy today,” Barry’s hand leaves Bart’s momentarily to pinch at his twin’s neck, “Fuck off, big Bartholomew, I’m talking to little Bartholomew, trying to be real, okay? Let me finish my fucking sentence before physically abusing me?” 

  
  


Barry pokes his tongue out at Clint. Clint, ever the responsible adult, shows him the middle finger. 

  
  


“ _ Anyways _ ,” the eldest of the cousins continue, eyes shifting back to Bart, “I would absolutely help you out of this place and change your name and move to fucking Italy if you wish--I’d do anything at all for you, Barty,” Clint smiles, the hand resting in between Bart’s shoulder blades coming to ruffle his already unkempt hair, “But you would never forgive me if I let you walk out on Jaime Reyes.” 

  
  


The words feel heavy on Bart’s shoulders, but he knows his older cousin is right. For all the talk about not trusting Jaime and always giving him a hard time during family dinners, Clint appreciates Reyes more than he knows how to express without being a passive-aggressive little shit. 

  
  


“He’s a good man,” Clint mumbles, like he doesn’t quite want to say it, but he does smile afterwards, “He was raised by an excellent family who has extended their arms to you the way we have extended ours to him. He knows all your tells when you’re trying to hide a surprise for him, but doesn’t say anything and acts surprised even though you’ve already ruined it one week in advance,” Bart laughs, shaking his head, “And I know he loves you. He loves you enough to have put up with  _ me _ for five long years, and he loves you enough to put up with me for the rest of his goddamn life.” 

  
  


“I know life has been an endless climb of changes and shitty plot twists,” Barry continues after his twin, his fingers lacing between Bart’s own on both sides, “We have all lost so much, and tragedy has taken so many years of our lives. I don’t want fear to take any more of yours.” 

  
  


Bart bites his lip, holding his cousins closer and Barry’s hands tighter. He barely registers Pepper’s voice coming back, asking Tony if they were ready or not, because the dogs were getting restless and Jay was just about to jump out of his seat in pure concern. Steve calls out to her that they’re alright, and that they’ll only be two more minutes. 

  
  


The cousins untangle from their huddle, fussing at each other’s outfits for a little bit before the twins leave to take their place at the line. Steve offers Bart his arm, smiling, and tells him it’s never too late to back down. Bart laughs, sniffling slightly and wiping away his tears before looping his arm around Steve’s and nodding. 

  
  


“Ready to get hitched.” 

  
  


// 

  
  


The long, torturous moments when Bart doesn't immediately come walking down the aisle are the worst 7 minutes of Jaime's entire existence. The red tie around his neck feels extremely tight, all of a sudden, and he can't stop looking back at his sister sitting in the front row to his left. 

  
  


He's dimly aware of Jay and Joan's concerned gazes looking at him, although he can't bring himself to meet their eyes. He doesn't know if out of embarrassment or total fear of crossing looks and finding out through them that Bart wasn't coming down the aisle. 

  
  


All of Bart's cousins are in the lobby with him, part of the "bridal" party that was meant to walk in front of him down the aisle. The idea makes him even more nervous, thinking that, with all of them out there, his fiancé could've easily chosen to skip out on his own wedding and leave Jaime there all by himself.

  
  


Reyes is about to call it off, unable to take the scrutinizing gaze from both their families, when Pepper is sliding back into the room, both thumbs pointed up as she mouths to Jaime that everything is alright. As soon as Virginia Potts is back in her seat, an easy smile on her face, Jaime has no doubt that things will turn out just like they’re supposed to. 

  
  


The doors open, and Paco lets out a relieved sigh behind him. Yeah, he can relate. 

  
  


Clint and Natasha come in first, perfect smiles on their faces, hands linked in the middle as they walk down the aisle. Her hair is done up in a high ponytail that swishes from side to side as she walks, and she offers him a wink. The tension in his shoulders relaxes significantly more. Clint’s camera is hanging from his neck, and he stops in the middle of their walk to catch a quick picture of Jaime standing there, nervous as hell, and Reyes can’t help but laugh. Once that’s taken care of, they both move to stand on the opposite side of him. 

  
  


"All good?" Jaime asks, because he’s still nervous and needs reassurance, and Natasha smiles.

  
  


"Perfect," she says, "Wait until you see him."

  
  


Jaime beams, and turns back to the aisle in time to see Hal and Barry walking in next. Jordan looks a little worse for wear, and the groom wonders if his husband had messed with his hair before walking in. The two of them whisper encouraging words to him once they're close, and move to stand behind Clint and Natasha. 

  
  


Next are Tony and Morgan. The girl is more than happy to toss petals around, content to be part of the wedding, and she runs the last few steps towards Jaime to wrap her arms tightly around his midsection. Reyes smiles brightly and hugs her back, kissing the top of her head. Morgan and her father come to stand behind him, next to Paco and Brenda, the only two from Barry's family that had been his family, too. 

  
  


Finally, Jaime turns to the door to watch Steve loop his arm around Bart's. His fiancé is wearing an all blue suit, in contrast with Jaime's white jacket and black pants, and where Reyes had accessorized with a peach button-up and a red tie, Bart was wearing all shades of blue. Something burns brightly in Jaime's entire body, and he can't help it when he tears up. He tries to stop a happy sob from escaping his mouth with his right hand, but fails miserably, and Paco pats his back behind him. Somewhere to his right, Jaime registers the soft clicks of Clint’s camera. 

  
  


_ Holy shit,  _ his fiancé was  _ beautiful _ .

  
  


Time can’t go fast enough, Jaime decides. He wants so badly to already be married to this man, to kiss him goodnight every single night for the rest of his life, and wake him up with breakfast every single morning. It doesn’t matter to him that they’ve been doing that for over two years now, Reyes can’t wait to watch the rest of his existence unfold, so as long as Bart is there with him. He feels like jumping, screaming, running around the venue a few times--Jaime could run all around the world once, twice, three times, and it still wouldn’t be enough to keep his sheer excitement at bay. 

  
  


When Steve and Bart finally make it to the end of the aisle, the older man grabs his younger cousin and squeezes him tight against his chest. Bart lets out a bubbly laugh that sounds a little frayed at the edges, and then Rogers-Stark turns towards Jaime. The two men share a quick handshake, before Steve is pulling his soon-to-be cousin-in-law into a hug, perhaps one as tight as the one he’d given Bart. 

  
  


“Welcome to the family, Jaime,” Steve whispers to him, patting his back twice, and then retreating, “I know you’ve been a part of it for a while now, but I’m glad I get to say this to you today.” 

  
  


Jaime tries not to cry even harder, wiping at his already-there tears quickly because this is embarrassing, damn it. He nods a couple of times, thanking Steve, before the man moves to stand next to his husband behind Reyes. 

  
  


“You look--” Jaime breathes out, as soon as he turns to Bart and he can take his fiancé’s hands, “ _ Dios mío, mi amor.  _ You’re the most beautiful man in the entire world.” 

  
  


Bart laughs again, shaking his head, but his hands tighten around Jaime’s and all is right in the world. The auburn-haired man pulls Reyes closer, kissing his cheek softly, before the minister clears his throat. 

  
  


“Are we ready to begin?” he asks, smiling kindly at the two men. 

  
  


“Please, let’s do this before Jaime realizes what he’s doing and bolts out the door,” Bart jokes, although his voice sounds ridiculously strained. 

  
  


Jaime shakes his head, tightening his hold around the other man’s hands and swiping his thumbs over calloused knuckles, “I would never do that.” 

  
  


Allen smiles warmly at his fiancé, and the adrenaline coursing through Reyes’ veins starts waning, leaving only a pleasant buzz of warmth. He doesn’t feel like bolting out of the place any longer, instead choosing the quiet calm that washes over him with Bart’s hands in his. The amount of love and admiration he feels for the man in front of him is all kinds of ridiculous, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

  
  


Jaime inhales deeply, and allows himself to be pulled into the constant flow that is Bart Allen. Today, and for the rest of his life. 

  
  


// 

  
  


Predictably, Bart cries. 

  
  


There’s no way he can’t stop himself, but he’s beginning to think he might need help saying his vows if this keeps up. The knot in his throat has lodged itself firmly on his vocal chords, and while there aren’t a ridiculous amount of tears cascading down his cheeks dramatically, he still has to wipe at his face a couple of times to save some of his dignity from crashing and burning in front of all his relatives. 

  
  


He’s better composed than this, damn it! 

  
  


Clint has long since left his spot behind him, choosing to crowd around the place with his camera, only looking slightly disgruntled at the  _ actual _ photographer they had hired for the occasion. He manages not to catch Jaime’s old college roommate taking pictures in the back-end of the room, something Bart is grateful for because his cousin has always been a wild-card. Nevertheless, Bart wishes the eldest of their brood would stop getting all the bad angles in which his face looks the most blotchy and red. 

  
  


(He hasn’t seen the pictures, but he  _ knows _ .) 

  
  


When Jaime is told to say his vows, thought--now  _ that’s _ the kicker. 

  
  


“Bartholomew Henry Allen,” the man begins, voice cracking ever so slightly on the last syllables of his name, and then he adds, as an afterthought, “The second.” 

  
  


Barry laughs behind him, and Bart rolls his eyes. 

  
  


“Don’t give me that look,” Jaime tells him, poking his stomach playfully, to which Bart recoils, giggling like a child, “I have to make my speech as rousing and as cheesy as I can possibly muster so you can’t one-up me on this one.” 

  
  


“Please,” Bart says, “We know I  _ am _ one-upping you on this one, too.” 

  
  


“Oh, shut it,” Reyes chastises, “just let me win  _ once _ , okay?” 

  
  


The younger man smiles, grabbing both of Jaime’s hands in his and nodding, “Just this once.” 

  
  


Jaime nods back, taking in a deep breath. He looks more nervous than Bart has ever seen him, so he squeezes Reyes’ hands in a sign of comfort. The older man squeezes back, a wobbly smile taking over his features, and  _ god _ they’re both gonna cry right now, aren’t they?

  
  


“Ted helped me prepare a whole speech for you,” Jaime begins, “we spent nights pouring over it, writing and rewriting what I wanted and had to say to you on our wedding day. Every single time we finished a draft, I’d re-read it and just scrap it altogether because they were all crap--no offense,  _ padrino _ .” From the witnesses’ row, Ted laughs and answers ‘none taken’, before Jaime continues, “It occured to me that I could’ve written thousands upon thousands of words and would never truly promise you the things that you deserve. I still made an attempt.” 

  
  


One of Jaime’s hands leaves Bart’s, as Reyes pulls at something from inside his jacket. He produces a small, folded up paper, that he spends all of thirty seconds fussing about until Brenda surges forward to help him unfold it. Jaime thanks her with a quiet ‘gracias’ and the woman pats his shoulder with a wobbly smile on her face. 

  
  


“ _ Cariño mío, _ ” Bart’s chest constricts with emotion at the nickname, “I promise, today and for the rest of our lives, to devote myself to you and give you the life you are meant to have. I promise to hold your hand through the bad times, and hug you even if it’s summer and you’ve come back from a training run and you’re all sweaty and sticky even though I really hate it when you’re sweaty and sticky,” he laughs at his own words, brushing a couple of tears away with the back of his hand, “I promise to come home every single day to you, and cook your meals when you feel like not paying attention to the stove. I promise to kiss you to sleep and wrap the blankets back around you on the cold nights, even if you’ve kicked them off yourself because you always overheat.

  
  


“I promise to never, ever let you forget that you were the first one to say ‘I love you’, because I love embarrassing you about stupid shit--it’s ridiculous how cute you look when you’re flustered,” Bart snorts, shaking his head, “But most of all, Bart,  _ mi cielo _ , I promise to love you, respect you and give you everything I have to offer and more, every day that I breathe, until the day I can’t anymore, and then continue to do so in whatever life awaits us after this one.  _ Te amo _ , Bart, and I promise to always prove myself to you.” 

  
  


Yeah, Bart thinks, as Jaime slides the silver band they’d chosen some months ago onto his finger, there was no way he wasn’t going to cry today. 

  
  


// 

  
  


Once the ceremony is over, everything that follows from there on until the reception is a flurry of congratulations, hugs, cheek kisses and family members whose names evade Jaime’s long-term memory. Bart introduces him to Iris and Peggy Carter, honorary cousins that Reyes ( _ Reyes-Allen _ now) has heard so much about in the years he spent getting to know the Allen family but that he has only met through overseas Skype calls and postcards hung in his window by a string. Iris hugs him like Barry does and Peggy has the strongest handshake, and they both immediately tell him how much they love him being a part of their family now. 

  
  


The Terrible Five (only three out of five, which is good for Jaime’s self-esteem) come poke fun at the grooms a little before the reception starts, taking silly selfies with them and showing off the ridiculous amount of views their documentation of the wedding was getting. Shuri explained to the newly-wed couple that their party hadn’t been as sought out as the Rogers-Stark wedding some years back, but that it was still considered “top tier” because of Jaime’s godfather. Harley complemented this quick lesson on the inner-workings of celebrity gossip saying that they were giving the public what they wanted, before shooting a picture of Jaime’s bewildered face. Peter just wanted to hug Jaime and Bart. 

  
  


Jason arrives fashionably late, even if his family had arrived much earlier for the ceremony. He’s followed by Roy, who reminds Jaime he’s only ever put on a suit twice in his life. This was one of those times and Harper was of the opinion that Reyes should appreciate it or  _ else _ . Jaime rolls his eyes at his friends, shoving them away as soon as Jason even attempts to give Bart a weird variation of a shovel talk. His husband ( _ Dios _ , he’ll never get tired of that word) simply laughs at Wayne’s behavior, and says he can take him if it comes down to it. 

  
  


Their wedding planner pops her head back into the lobby of the venue, where Jaime and Bart are sitting after having herded the last of their guests into the room where their reception was scheduled to take place. The woman tells them everyone is seated, and that they’re welcome to step inside at any time they want to. Jaime whispers to Bart that she might be heavily implying that they should go inside  _ now _ . The auburn haired man laughs, shaking his head, and tells Daisy they’ll be walking in soon. 

  
  


“You ready?” Jaime asks him, offering Bart an outstretched hand. 

  
  


“Well,” Bart muses, linking their fingers together, “I’ve already made a fool of myself at the ceremony and butchered every word in my vows so, I think I’m the most ready I will ever be.” 

  
  


The older man snorts, tightening his hold on his husband’s hand, surging forward to press a soft, chasté kiss to Bart’s lips. Bart hums, smiling when they come apart, and he nods. 

  
  


“I’m ready cause I’m with you.” 

  
  


Daisy smiles at them once, opening the double doors in front of them and stepping aside to let them walk inside. Sound floods the lobby, and the two men hold onto each other a little tighter. The music is a soft instrumental that Jay had picked out for them, and Jaime could already feel himself vibrating in anticipation of their first dance. He’d lost a bet to his husband a couple of months ago and had to let him choose the song for their first dance. Bart had outright refused to tell him anything about it, saying it was meant to be a surprise, and the newly married Reyes-Allen was very curious to find out his partner’s choice. 

  
  


“It is my pleasure tonight to introduce, for the first time to the dance floor,” Clint’s on the stage, as he’s been for every single one of his cousin’s weddings, and he extends an arm towards them as they walk in, “Mr. and Mr. Allen-Reyes!” 

  
  


Their family and friends cheer around them as they make their way to the center of the dancefloor. Ted and Michael are probably the loudest of them all, their tiny daughter wailing her head off atop Mike’s shoulders. Jaime laughs, shaking his head and waving at them, earning him a louder whoop from the table. His parents and Milagro are next to them, and when he looks, he catches his mom trying to wipe tears away. 

  
  


Before he can start bawling like an idiot right then and there, his husband pulls him by their laced hands and brings him in so they face each other. Bart’s hand falls to the small of his back, their hands readjusting to better fit the new position, and Allen-Reyes leans in to kiss Jaime’s forehead. 

  
  


“ _ Te amo _ ,” he tells him, struggling around the words because vowel sounds suck sometimes, and Jaime tries not to tear up  _ again _ , “I’m glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

  
  


The opening chords of a familiar song play from the speakers, and Jaime swears he’s heard a click go off in his head, “You  _ didn’t _ .” 

  
  


Bart nods, looking smug and satisfied, “I did,” he says, and starts swaying them to the music before the first verse kicks, “ _ Late at night when all the world is sleeping _ ,” Bart sings, and Jaime laughs before he buries his face in his husband’s neck, “ _ I stay up and think of you _ .” 

  
  


“ _ And I wish on a star, _ ” Jaime continues the next verse, their voices mixing with Selena Quintanilla’s record, “ _ that somewhere you are thinking of me, too _ .” 

  
  


The two men continue to dance in the middle of the linoleum floor, content to sing to each other as the world around them fades away. Five years ago, Jaime had been in New York, sitting at a table next to his godfather and watching a dear family friend dancing away at his own wedding--today, he had a hyphenated last name and an armful of Bartholomew Henry Allen-Reyes. He thinks of the circumstances that have brought him to this moment, the ups and downs of life long passed, and the ups and downs yet to come. 

  
  


He tips his head to Bart, as his husband is in the middle of the verse, and presses his lips firmly to the other man’s. Jaime thinks how kissing Bart still tastes like lightning and stings like electricity, and as their friends and family cheer around them, he thinks it’ll never stop feeling like that-- _ y al chile _ , that’s perfect for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some translations and some complementing thoughts for wedding AU: 
> 
> - _Tía/tías_ : aunt/aunts. 
> 
> - _Mijo/mija_ : _mi hijo/mi hija_ , means my son/my daughter.
> 
> - _Enana_ : shortstack.
> 
> - _Correcaminos_ : roadrunner. Also a bus line in several places, I have found out. There's one in a city to the north of mine and one in Lyssa's hometown. The things you find out. 
> 
> - _Padrino_ : godfather. 
> 
> - _Mierda_ : shit. 
> 
> - _¡Jaime! Te voy a lavar la boca con jabón_ : Jaime! I'll wash your mouth with soap. Because latino moms ALWAYS threaten you like this and Jaime may be 28, but he's still Bianca Reyes' son.
> 
> - _Nombre, mujer, te la bañas_ : Has no direct translation as far as I know (literal translation gives you "Word, woman, you're showering" but that is???? Nonsense???) but the closest I can get to reinterpreting is "God, woman, you're terrible". When someone is telling someone else that "se la bañaron" it means that they've gone overboard with something, or that what they've done is unbelievable.
> 
> -Interestingly, I didn't use as much spanish in this as I thought I would, and this time I didn't have that many slang phrases and words to translate, which is actually a small blessing because they normally take a lot of brain power to actually explain. I've been recently told that my end notes have been helping people learn a little bit about the spanish language, so I'm!!! Very happy about it!!! 
> 
> -If you read "the groom's side" you might've noticed that Jaime calls Steve's music taste strange, and the hilarious part is that Jaime's wedding is about to be hijacked by said music taste because Bart has the exact same one. They both got it from Jay, which means their music taste consist of peppy 40/50s songs and some 80s and 90s peppered in thanks to Clint and Barry. It's very eclectic. And now Bart's marrying a man whose music taste is VERY DIFFERENT from his, so their wedding playlist is HILARIOUS. I'll share it with you when I'm done with it. 
> 
> -Ted and Michael adopted a daughter! Her name is Rani, canonically she's Booster's sort of adopted daughter. She's a Daxamite that he rescues from Darkseid's invasion, and he takes her with him, thus adopting her. She's cute and very smart and she loves her two dads. (Mike may or may not have one actual son running around looking for him, but I didn't tell you anything kaybye). 
> 
> -Iris and Peggy are a 100% married, you know I like my crossover ships and this one is the one I've defended through most of the Alternate Universes I've ever created. It came to my attention that I didn't put either of them in the original groom's side and that's just DESPICABLE of me. I suck. So, here I am, asking for forgiveness. I hope y'all find it in your hearts to allow me reprieve. 
> 
> -Their song! It's [Dreaming of You by Selena Quintanilla](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlfOIksGEqc). I know y'all know by now how much I love this queen and maybe one day I'll explain how much Jaime loves her, too. Lyssa and I spent a while trying to figure out what their song would be, and I eventually settled on Dreaming of You because of a) the cultural significance it holds for Jaime, b) it's big YEARNING energy, and c) Bart would absolutely pick it because he knows Jaime loves it (and also, he couldn't sing any of her other songs because....his pronunciation....isn't amazing). 
> 
> -The Terrible Three upgraded to The Terrible Five during the five years we haven't seen our boys! They call themselves the Sciencelings now, though, but Jaime won't stop calling them the Terrible Five because he once was a Terrible One and he can't get it out of his head. The newest additions? Riri Williams and Lila Rhodes. 
> 
> -In México (and some people in the US, as Lyssa has informed me now), when women get married they don't take their husband's name, but rather add a "de Last Name" to their miaden name. The "de" is a preposition meaning "of". I toyed with the idea of having Jaime use that format instead of a hyphen, which would make him "Jaime Reyes of Allen". I think that's....very beautiful. 
> 
> -Jason and Roy? Love Jaime big time. They're Good Friends. This friendship was brought to you by Jax's and I tumblr ramblings and my obssession with a Jason & Jaime friendship. Jaime is the ride or die type of friend, and also the mom friend, so just PICTURE THE SHENANIGANS.
> 
> -Bart says he butchered his vows because, like in day 2, he said his vows in spanish for Jaime. It was beautiful, but again, Bart's pronunciation? Not so hot. 
> 
> -Khaji Da is a cat. In every non-powered AU, he will continue to be a cat. Thank you, I take no criticism. 
> 
> -Like I said, there are missing scenes here, so I might make a mulit-chapter with drabbles on these missing scenes to expand on this AU.


End file.
